


the holy or the broken

by freehugsforfandom



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: M/M, also second/third person changes, could you consider this horror?, has a lot of fridge horror implications, maybe fridge angst, paranormal!cecil, tenses are important kids, which is basically normal cecil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-02
Updated: 2013-10-02
Packaged: 2017-12-28 05:42:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/988380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freehugsforfandom/pseuds/freehugsforfandom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been an hour. You hadn’t moved. Maybe if you stayed perfectly stationary the darkness would bless you with grace and blow air back into his heavy lungs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the holy or the broken

**Author's Note:**

> quick note: my friend and I have the headcanon that Cecil once had a sister and inadvertently caused her death (à la Mary Winchester). there's a brief mention of it but really you don't need to know the full story for this to make sense. title is from Hallelujah (do I really have to specify a single singer?)

**0820**

There are three things you could sense: you could hear the still-dripping tap, you smelt the dampness soaking through the carpet, and you could still feel his phantom hand brush softly against your cheek as he fell.

It had been an hour. You hadn’t moved. Maybe if you stayed perfectly stationary the darkness would bless you with grace and blow air back into his heavy lungs.

You knew that soon his colleagues will call, worried and curious and ravenous for answers. If you could open your mouth and force your vocal cords to splutter out meaningless words, would you tell them the truth? Could you? Could you shift the ground beneath their feet and tell them he’s dead?

It’s a good question.

**0659**

The tap was still dripping from earlier.

“That’s not the _point_ , Cecil! Fucking hell, just –“

“Carlos –"

“No, I’ve got to get to work.”

“Carlos, listen to me! This posting, if you go, I can’t…”

“You can’t _what_?”

“You’re making me choose, Carlos. I can’t choose between you and Night Vale.”

“I don’t have time, Cecil. I’ve got to get to work.”

“Carlos, stop.”

“No—"

“Stop.”

Carlos stopped.

**0700**

You remembered the last time this happened. But while your sister burned so bright her spark consumed her young flesh, Carlos was like water surrounding your ears, muting the mania and cooling your blushed cheeks. Somehow, the water vanished from around you and rushed into his lungs.

The memory is sodden with panic. One moment you blazed with fury, the next he crouched before you, hands on his throat as water trickled from his gaping mouth. Within moments you were holding him, a feeble Pietà, both fallen to the ground. Though he could not speak with words ( _words were things you exchanged when you were okay and weren’t mad and still could breathe_ ), his eyes begged for compassion.

You remembered the last time this happened and know that mercy is not something you could control.

**0715**

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

His favourite lab coat was a gift from you. Pristine, white, and elaborately stitched, the fabric felt like ice as you pulled it off the deadweight that was its owner.

You wanted to keep this part of him. You had to keep it. They would take it away. You needed it; it had pen marks on the sleeves and an acid stain and it was _him_. You needed him.

**1023**

One of the interns came by your apartment. She lifted you to your feet, wiped away the streams that tumbled down your cheeks, and asked you if remember what happened.

Do you?

You shook your head.

She rubbed her thumb on your shoulder then disappeared down the hall to turn off the dripping tap. The water had run over the confines of the sink and fallen like rain onto the tiles below. When she opened the bathroom door the floor seemed to shift under her feet, cold water like ice reflecting the thin sunlight filtering through the tiny window. Within a few moments the tap was twisted and the sound was gone.

For the first time in hours, Cecil whimpered.

**0645**

_Carlos steps out of the bathroom and smiles down at Cecil, snuffling in his sleep. Though he seems at rest, it only takes a few moments for him to shoot up in bed, eyes wide and breath staccato._

_“Bad dream?” Carlos asks, bending down and kissing Cecil gently on the forehead._

_“Uh, yes,” Cecil coughs, shaking his head once as if to shake away the night terrors. He watches as Carlos dresses for the day, selecting his absurdly colourful tie from the rack and consulting Cecil as to which lab coat he should wear that day._

_Cecil grins at the wonderful monotony that has become his life. Domestic, happy, without the troubles of his past and stretching like the night’s sky to a wondrous infinity of peace._

You noticed the tap was dripping.

 


End file.
